


Sick Day

by combataccessory



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Sickfic, forgive me for my last fic here is a fluffy sickfic to cure the fandom, how do we live through these books without fics like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combataccessory/pseuds/combataccessory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valkyrie is sick and Skulduggery tries to take care of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maybells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybells/gifts).



> Had an insane prompt challenge thing on Twitter, so this is my attempt at Sickfic. Takes place somewhere late in the series, also where apparently she'd have to be healed the mortal way for maximum sickficness. Some details might be wrong, but I finished writing this at 2am so that is my excuse. Written partly for Hannah, who is sick and brought it up in the first place.

Her head was pounding.

It was cold out, and the sun was rising. They were in the Bentley, as they usually were these days. Skulduggery was driving, and the radio was turned down so low that Valkyrie could barely hear what was playing. She didn’t much care. She was resting her head on the window, eyes closed, and focusing very intently on Not Vomiting in the Bentley.

They’d been driving all night, coming home after a particularly long case that ended _particularly_ poorly only a couple hours away from Haggard. (Poorly for the bad guys, anyway. They were on their way to prison with a few broken limbs each. Valkyrie herself had made it out with only a few cuts and scrapes.)

“Perhaps we should go directly to the Sanctuary,” Skulduggery said.

Valkyrie drew in a sudden breath through her nose and sat up straight, trying to focus on the words coming out of her partner’s mouth. She was struggling to keep her eyes open, thanks to her massive headache and the sunlight shining directly on her face.

“We could file the report early,” he was saying. “Give Ghastly some work to do this morning.” He chuckled quietly to himself. He turned to look at her and she knew he had lips he’d be smiling. “What do you think?”

“As thrilling as that sounds,” Valkyrie replied and swallowed thickly before continuing. “Can you just drop me off at home? I’m really…uh, I’m really tired.”

She wasn’t lying, not technically. She really had been awake for more than a day and she was quite tired. But Valkyrie was also sick and she knew it. She hated being sick. She did not like feeling weak, and did not like _admitting_ her weakness, especially not in front of Skulduggery. She knew he’d understand—he always did—but she didn’t want him to. She didn’t want to let him down, not when he thought she was like him. Strong. Brave. Ready to do anything, to go anywhere. She wanted to be like him, she always had. She didn’t want to admit that either.

“Are you all right?”

“I _told_ you, I’m just tired,” she snapped. She couldn’t help it. She was embarrassed and the pressing ache in her head was not helping her situation. “I haven’t slept in over 24 hours. I’m exhausted.”

He turned his head to her for a moment, then looked back to the road. “All right. I’ll take you home.”

***

He pulled up to the pier.

She got out of the car.

She vomited.

She got back into the car.

“Just tired, are we?”

She glared at him, tied her hair back with weak arms. “Shut up. I’m sick.”

“I gathered. Are your parents still in France?”

She coughed, but nodded.

“I’ll take you to my house then.”

She didn’t feel like arguing.

He drove to Cemetery Road.

***

Her legs were weak when she stepped out of the Bentley. Skulduggery had already circled around the car to stand next to her by the time she could stand up straight.

“Do you need help?”

Valkyrie felt herself blush, embarrassed. “No. I’ve got it, thanks.”

She took a step. He took a step beside her.

“I’m not going to _faint_ , Skulduggery,” she snapped, annoyed. It was easy to be mad when you were sick, she noticed. “I’m not that silly twelve year-old girl anymore.”

“I never said you were, dear.”

She stumbled. He caught her. In fact, he scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her protests. She gave in and rested her warm head against his cold suit jacket, as he ambled to the front door of his home.

“This is humiliating,” she said, as he struggled to open the door with his foot.

“Everyone has their off days, Valkyrie. Even me. You can just take a sick day today. You’ve earned it, I must say,” he said, and stopped struggling with the door. “Could you get that, please? My hands are full.”

“Ha ha,” she said, dryly. “And no, I can’t. You literally have magical powers and I am sick. I think you can handle it.”

He opened the door.

Skulduggery brought her to her bedroom, and laid her gently down on the bed. She brought her feet up and tugged off her boots, letting them fall heavily to the floor.

“I think I have a fever,” she admitted.

Skulduggery took off his gloves and pressed a boney hand to her forehead. “You don’t _feel_ warm.”

“Of course I don’t,” she said, squinting up at him as he pulled his hand away. “Not to you. You can’t actually feel if something is warm. Or cold. Or anything.”

“Oh.” He tilted his head, then nodded. “That’s right. Good point.”

She coughed. “It’s your fault I’m sick, you know.”

“Is it now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is, did you see that guy who punched me? I’m pretty sure he was ill. Really ill, like. And now I’ve got what he has. You could’ve punched him for me, that’s what I’m saying here.”

“I see. And is that why you’re angry with me?”

“What?” She looked at him, eyes wide. “I’m not angry with you. I’m just sick. Sorry.”

“It’s no problem.”

A pause. The only sound in the room was Valkyrie breathing.

“Should I…well, should I get you anything?” Skulduggery asked, breaking the silence. He sounded concerned. And confused.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been sick in hundreds of years. What do you usually do?”

Valkyrie groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Skulduggery, I appreciate it, but my head hurts and I’m tired. I’m just gonna take a nap, okay? Go do some research or something, and I promise I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

“If you say so, my dear. I’ll be in the living room.” He crossed the room to close the window curtains, before returning to the doorway. “Good night, Valkyrie.”

“It’s six am, Skulduggery.”

“Good morning, Valkyrie.”

He heard her laugh from under the covers.

***

“Skulduggery, I know it’s early, but I’ve got a case for you and Valkyrie,” Ghastly was saying an hour later, his voice crackling through the phone. He sounded like he’d been awake for hours already. “Have you ever heard of—”

“I’m sorry, Ghastly, it will have to wait. We’re taking a sick day.”

“Are you sick?”

“No, of course not. I’m a skeleton. That would be ridiculous.”

“Right.”

“It’s Valkyrie, actually. She’s not feeling very well.”

“Oh. Is she going to be all right?”

“She says she’ll be fine, but I’m not sure.” Skulduggery opened Valkyrie’s door, cracked it open only a few inches, trying to keep out the light from the hall. Valkyrie was sleeping on her side, facing the door. Her dark hair was splayed out around her, and her face was pale. “What do you need when you’re sick? What medicine should she take? I… I don’t know how to handle this and I am usually pretty good at handling things, you have to admit.”

He could hear Ghastly failing to suppress a laugh.

“You’ve been dead for far too long, old friend.”

***

Valkyrie had to bite back a smile as the door closed.

***

Skulduggery activated his façade before exiting the Bentley and entering the 24-hour shop.

“Excuse me,” he said to the cashier once he’d stepped inside. “Where is the medicine?”

A young girl with a plain face and dyed red hair looked up from the magazine she was reading. She raised an eyebrow at the thin man in the suit before saying, “Aisle three.”

***

He didn’t know what she needed.

He bought it all.

***

“I’m dying,” Valkyrie said. It was a half an hour later, and Skulduggery was sitting on her bed, empty medicine boxes littered the floor. She’d been wide-awake when he’d returned home, claiming she hadn’t been able to sleep at all. “I’m literally dying. There’s no hope for me.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I am not being dramatic. Don’t call me dramatic. And I’ll have you know I am telling the truth. I’m dying.”

“Don’t joke,” he said.

She ignored him and tried to sit up. Skulduggery leaned forward to help her.

“I can feel my body slowly caving in on itself, so I’d better say this now,” she said, weakly. Drowsily. The medicine was kicking in. “It’s been nice knowing you, Skulduggery Pleasant. I’m glad we met, like. I’m really glad I met you.”

“The medicine seems to be working,” he said, his voice quiet. “You’re already out of it.”

“No,” she said, attempting to be stern, but she was slowly sliding back down under the covers. Skulduggery gently guided her back down. “I mean it. You’re my best friend, and I love you.” Her head hit the pillow. “There. That’s all I wanted to say. Goodbye forever.”

Her eyes closed.

 “Valkyrie?”

“Mm?”

“Are you still awake?”

“Yes. What is it? I just made a very moving death speech.”

“I…I just wanted to say something as well…”

She opened one eye. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to say that I’m beginning to worry about the amount of medicine I gave you…”

“Oh?”

“Yes, it’s possible something dreadful might happen to you and your death speech wasn’t very reassuring…. I’d better stay here to make sure you don’t die.”

“That’s nice, Skulduggery, and I know I just said I love you, and I do, but I’m going to throw a pillow at you if you don’t leave.”

“I take back what I said. You’re clearly feeling better already.”

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't figure out how to end it okay


End file.
